


Football Gods

by amoama



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Football, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoama/pseuds/amoama
Summary: Nicky and Joe hang out with Booker, and play keepy-uppy. That's the fic.Set in the year before Morocco.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 114





	Football Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @lilithilien for the prompt and general enthusiasm!

They pass the ball back and forth, keeping it off the ground. Their top score is 833. But that was a few years back and they haven’t got over 600 this year. Booker gifted them a tally counter to help them keep track but part of the joy is in the counting. It was an ironic gift because whenever Booker sees them doing this he tries to sabotage them.

They’ve just had to start again because Booker caught a loosely aimed pass from Joe and headed it on to Nicky. According to universal keepy-uppy rules, that’s not allowed. Joe can tell by the look in Booker’s eye that he’s about to intervene again. This is not going to be the day they beat their record.

“You know,” says Booker, circling Nicky in an obstructive manner, “if you expanded your training regime a bit, you could probably get a few years in playing professionally.”

“Ha,” Nicky laughs, as he uses his knee to make the pass, “158.”

“You’ve got the fitness, well, Joe does,” Booker continues, teasingly, “You’ve got how many years of honing ball control? You can hit the target. Fearless in defence.”

“Nicky -161 - fouls too much,” Joe accuses.

“Oh, is that right?” Nicky’s eyebrows raise. “162. You’re the one who doesn’t like the new rules.”

“163 - the new rules are boring.”

“The rules aren’t new!” Booker points out. And it’s true they’ve had over a hundred years to get used to them. Joe just doesn’t like them as much. He prefers Gaelic sports and is aggrieved hurling doesn’t have a wider following. He kicks the ball at Booker a bit too harshly, forcing Booker to bat it away with his hand straight back at Joe.

Joe sighs, “1.” Booker grins and Nicky glares.

“2.”

“3.”

“4.”

“Who would you play for?” Booker asks, “That is if you ever decided to progress from keepy-uppy to full games.”

“Well, I did play for Genoa – 7 - that one time,” Nicky says proudly.

“That’s right, you did! 8 - the old rossoblù!” Joe says.

“Wasn’t that when they were more famous for their cricket team?” Booker interjects.

“Perhaps,” Nicky says and Joe barks out a laugh and misses the ball. They all collapse, ready for a break.

“And didn’t you tell me they banned foreign players and were suddenly desperate for Italians?” Booker’s still laughing.

“I scored twice! Against Milan!” Nicky reminds them.

“Sì, bello mio, you were the star player,” Joe feels some appeasement is in order.

“My name’s forever on the score sheet, sort of.” A pseudonym at least.

“It was a great match,” Joe says, but suddenly he can’t help the lump that catches in his throat. He remembers how he roared himself hoarse cheering for Nicky from the crowd, yelling abuse at the Milanese supporters. He remembers Nicky’s infectious enthusiasm on the pitch lifting the energy of Genoa’s makeshift team. He thinks of those other boys, all dazzled by Nicky, following his natural leadership without knowing why. Yes, it was a wonderful game, Genoa v Milan, April 1910, 3-2 final score. The memory itself is a happy one, but they hadn’t known then what was in store for most of those boys, how close they were to tragedy.

Nicky leans into him, rests his head on Joe’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Booker says. He can’t remember why he wasn’t there.

“Well, if Andy doesn’t want to start working again soon, perhaps we should let Paris Saint-Germain know about our footballing talents. We might need the money,” Joe says.

“They’re not going to want us if we can’t get to 1000,” Nicky says.

“We’ll keep practising,” Joe says, pressing a kiss to Nicky’s forehead.

It’s nice, this peace, this rest, him and Nicky and Booker. He knows Booker is planning something to get Andy back on track. Her absence has been worrying them a little, or rather, the mood of her absence. So soon enough they’ll be back to doing what they do, and in the meantime, if Joe pictures him and Nicky out in the blazing lights of the Parc de Princes, the crowd hushed as Joe passes wide to Nicky, lining up the goal, what’s the harm? Even immortals dream of being football gods sometimes.


End file.
